


Beg

by beautysupreme



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse/assault isn't dutch/arthur, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Fear, Forced anal fingering, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Salty Arthur Morgan, Sexual Assault, Verbal Abuse, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautysupreme/pseuds/beautysupreme
Summary: Arthur and Dutch find themselves hogtied and at the mercy of their captors.TW: Graphic language and sexual assault. Vulnerability and comfort.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	Beg

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nightlore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightlore/gifts).



> I don't know why I put characters I love in these situations :| I guess I just want the vulnerability and emotional intimacy that follows.

"You are an awful suitor, son."

Dutch chuckled as he downed the last of his drink. He had been waiting for Arthur at the Smithfield saloon and was more than entertained watching the man refuse the saloon girls who approached him upon arrival. The younger man's blue eyes widened at the insult, feigning hurt as he approached the bar. 

"Well, I suppose we can't all be as charming as you, dolin' it out left and right."

"You never seemed to mind," Dutch leaned in close, taking delight in the way the other man nervously glanced around. Arthur had never been comfortable with public affection, from men or women, "And I don’t give what isn't asked for."

"Can I get a beer?" Arthur hailed the bartender and nodded his appreciation as the man slid a bottle down the bar, staying on the far side with a group of other patrons. He caught a surly looking feller, clean shaven with auburn hair, staring at them from across the saloon. He took a drink, deciding not to hold back the words behind his teeth.

"No, you certainly do not. That's the god damn truth."

Dutch's eyes narrowed, surprised at Arthur's response and the venom in his voice, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Arthur had become despondent over Dutch's gradual divulsion through the years. At one point in time, they had confided every thought and worry in one another, but those days were long dead. Buried with all those they had lost along the way. Arthur couldn't put his finger on exactly why or when but it was made all the more clear with Dutch's avoidance of disclosing the details of Blackwater with him. The man had also become selfish with his affection over the last year, whereas it was once given so freely. Now Arthur felt he had to earn it or beg for it like a dog.

Some days the tension between them, or just within Dutch himself, was wound so tight he feared the man would snap any moment. Other days were reminiscent of years past and how easy things had been between them. Resentment and disappointment grew in the space between, not exactly directed toward Dutch, but at himself for not knowing how to fix it after two decades of companionship.

"You know exactly what 'm talkin' about - "

The saloon doors burst open as a group of men dressed in black coats and dusters pushed some poor fool to the ground. Dutch and Arthur tensed as more O'Driscolls poured into Smithfields. There were too many of them to take on if they recognized them; and they inevitability would. Dutch looked at Arthur, nodding to the side door. 

Arthur followed behind Dutch, noticing the clean shaven man from earlier making eye contact with another man across the room and leaving through the front of the saloon, narrowly avoiding the rowdy gang of O'Driscolls. As they entered the alley, Arthur nearly toppled over Dutch as he stopped, turning to face him. The man's hands reached for his neckerchief, straightening it before smoothing the front of his shirt. Dutch's hands ran down his chest and curved around his sides to rest on his hips. Arthur held his breath as his arousal grew.

"Now, what were you so _tactfully_ trying to tell me? Am I not satisfying your needs, Arthur?"

"Dutch, we ain't got time for this. I think there were -" 

Arthur groaned as a blade pressed against his throat. He saw the brief flash of surprise on Dutch's face as he raised his hands in mock surrender. At least the man still cared enough to not abandon him or shoot through him to kill the man. The stranger was careful with the knife, not pressing it into his skin like many others. He was polite compared to other men who had put him in similar positions, Arthur mused in his head, trying to calm himself enough to focus on finding a way out of the situation. It was a tactic Dutch taught him early on and one he wasn't particularly good at practicing.

"You thought right, Mr. Morgan." 

Another man flanked them on the opposite side of the alley, pressing the nozzle of his pistol into Dutch’s back.

"Sorry to interrupt this lover's quarrel but we have a rather large bounty to cash in."

"I think you boys are mistaken."

"I don't think so," The bounty hunter behind Dutch kicked his knees, sending him to the ground. He quickly knelt over him with rope, making the cleanest of knots before tying a strip of fabric around his head. Arthur felt his stomach sink at the sight of Dutch hogtied and gagged. It didn't last long before the other man removed the knife and shoved him to the ground, doing the same to him. The men picked them up and hoisted them over their horses.

"Settle in, ladies. It's a long ride to Blackwater."

* * *

Somewhere between Valentine and Diablo Ridge a rainstorm rivaling that of a monsoon appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. Arthur's eyes burnt from dust kicked up by the horses, throat sore and irritated. He groaned as the man slung him from the horse to the ground. He glanced behind him to find that Dutch was receiving the same treatment.

The men quickly setup a temporary camp, dragging the pair of outlaws out of the rain. They didn't seem to be novices so Arthur wondered why they were showing any decency to their bounties, thinking on how they themselves had tied Kiernan to a tree and left him exposed to the elements for days. Some men were just kinder than others, even if they were dragging you to your death all the same.

By the time the storm let up, night had fallen. The campfire had survived the storm and now danced wildly in the night. The men drug Arthur and Dutch from the tent and began loading up the horses.

Shots rang out and the two bounty hunters fell dead where they stood. Dutch felt relief wash over him, waiting for Bill, Javier, Charles, Micah, or even Miss Grimshaw to appear. Then his heart sank like a stone in the sea as O'Driscolls appeared from the darkness surrounding the camp site. 

"Well, well. If it isn't Dutch and his chained Sally. Thought we saw the pair o' ya on a date back in Valentine!"

Dutch watched as two of the men approached Arthur, jerking the gag from his head. He tried once more to squeeze his hands tight enough to slip from the rope but there still wasn't enough slack. He kept turning his hands, trying to gain just enough. The satchel with their guns wasn't even five feet away...If he could just...

"There we go, pretty boy. It will be much easier to fuck that pink mouth of yers now."

"Yer a brave one. I'll take his arse. No worries o' gettin' my dick bit off."

"Get anywhere near me and I'll make sure you lose more than that tiny thing you call a dick," Arthur thrashed against the binds of the rope as two more men approached.

"He seems real eager!"

"Oh don't worry. We'll all take a turn on ya."

One of the men forced Arthur to the ground, pressing his boot into the center of his back to keep him on his stomach. Dutch felt his heartbeat hasten as a thin layer of sweat dampened his skin. The O'Driscoll brandished a knife, smiling to himself as he cut a clean line down Arthur's pants, ripping them from where they were tied to his ankles. He ran the knife down the small of Arthur's back, picking up the hem of his undergarments with the tip of the blade and slicing them away as well. They laughed as Arthur was left exposed and thrashing wildly on the ground.

"Let's see that tight little pucker - that is if yer daddy hasn't already done a right number on you tonight," the man spread Arthur apart and whistled, ignoring the man's threats and insults, "Now that is a pretty sight!"

Dutch's heart was pounding in his chest. He yelled against the gag, pleading, desperate and frantic. One of the other men smiled and stalked over to him, grabbing him by his hair and jerking his head up. He laughed, calling back at the others, "He doesn't seem to be too keen on watching us fuck his little bitch. Maybe we should fuck 'im too. Ask nice now." 

The man traced Dutch's jawline with his blade before cutting the gag off. He wasted no time with an appeal, "Don't...don't. Don't touch him. There has to be something you want -"

"Oh there is alright - you boys screaming with our dicks up yer arses. I can't wait to see the look on yer face as I fuck that pretty gun of yers. Think he can take two o' us at once? Maybe two in his arse while the rest of us take turns in his mouth?"

"I'm talking about _money_. The Blackwater money." Dutch sneered, disgusted by the raw heathenism on display. He ignored the way Arthur's eyes locked on him as he shook his head, urging him not to barter with the men, "I'm askin' - I am _begging_ you - don't hurt him."

"Isn't that sweet, fellers?! Dutch _cares_ about his boys!" The man with his foot on Arthur's back jeered, grabbing a fistful of blonde hair and jerking his head back, "How bout we just fuck 'im instead? Do we got it all wrong, hm? Dutch the one callin' you daddy now?" 

The man laughed as he stroked Arthur’s cheek. 

"Fuck you." Arthur spat, jerking away from the touch. One of the men slugged him hard across the face. He tasted and smelt copper. Bloody spittal dotted the ground and the man jerked his head up, making him look across the campfire to his mentor and the man beside him. The man smiled at Arthur as he squatted beside Dutch.

"So tell me, why would we care about the Blackwater money when the bounty on both yer heads is much more."

Dutch forced a laugh, trying to convey certainty and hide the tremor of fear that threatened to creep into his voice, "You boys really don't have much brains between you. You think they'd just let you waltz free after giving you a big sum of money? They'll take you in just as well and keep the bounty."

"Guess we'll see about that," The man grabbed the collar of Dutch's shirt and shoved him a few feet from Arthur, making sure the man would get a good view of what was about to happen. The man pulled himself from his pants, semi-erect and stroking himself. Dutch tasted bile rising from the pit of his stomach. The man pressed his gun against his temple.

He was distracted by motion in his peripheral vision. He ignored the gun pressed to his head, looking over to find one of the men by Arthur pulling him on all fours and forcing a finger roughly inside him. He heard a strangled yelp escape his boy and saw how he bared his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Jesus, Mary, 'n Joseph, he's tight. We'll need some lube or somethin'."

"Stop! _Please_!" Dutch choked out, his voice sounded forein in his own ears; desperate and weak. He felt the barrel of the gun press into his temple.

"Fuck that," Another man stepped behind Arthur, ignoring Dutch as he quickly unbuckled his belt, "He'll get fucked rough and bloody like he deserves. Get 'im open just enough for me to push in and I'll split 'im in two."

"Stop...please," Dutch pleaded once more, anger and the unsettling helplessness knotting into a tight sob that choked him. His stomach was twisting and he fought the urge to vomit.

Arthur looked over at Dutch, wishing he hadn't. Tears were threatening to fall as he saw the man stripped of his usual confidence.This wasn't how he wanted to go.

Dutch felt the sickening concoction of fear and rage burn through him as he was consumed by the gaping maw of powerlessness. The man in front of him tapped his temple with the gun, to pull his attention back to his prick.

"Now open up and show me some of that famous Van der Linde _charisma_ and tongue I've heard so much about. And no teeth or I'll put a bullet through your neck and fuck that."

Dutch closed his eyes, trying to mentally detach from the present situation. _It's survival,_ he told himself. Then he heard a deafening gun shot and felt something warm drip on his face. He looked up to see the man grasping his neck as blood sputtered from the wound and poured from his mouth, cascading over his chin like a crimson waterfall. He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he watched the man choke on his own blood, paying no attention to the chaos playing out around them. Eventually no one was left standing, with exception to a very furious Sadie Adler. 

"You boys alright?" Sadie was already freeing him from the ropes by the time the world came into focus again. He looked over at Arthur, seeing something off about him. He pulled himself from depths of hatred he had let swallow him. Not blind to the fact that Arthur needed him.

"Yes, all thanks to you Mrs. Adler. I've got him," Dutch hurried to his feet, taking his knife from the satchel. He cut Arthur free and stripped his long coat from his shoulders, wrapping it around Arthur to allow the younger man some modesty, "How on Earth did you find us?"

"Hosea was worried about the pair of you but the others wanted to give it time - gave him hell for bein' overprotective. I told him I'd check it out."

"Thank you, Sadie," Arthur nodded at the woman, hating the look of pity on her face as she pieced together the exact situation they had been in. He knew how it looked too. He wanted desperately to explain that nothing had happened - his masculinity unscathed by the likes of the bloody O'Driscolls but he already knew how pathetic and unconvincing it would sound. 

Dutch took heed of Arthur's discomfort, quickly retrieving their personal effects and handing Arthur’s guns to him as he addressed the woman, "We are in your debt, Mrs. Adler but, if you wouldn't mind, we'll meet you back at camp. Will you send someone for our horses? They should still be outside the saloon in Valentine."

" 'course," She hesitated for a moment, resolving to softly touch Arthur's arm and then Dutch's. She felt like she should have the words to comfort the men but no matter how hard she searched for them, she couldn't find the right ones, "I know just what kind of animals those sacks of shit scum are. Take the time you need. I'll let the others know you're both alright and I'll see you both back at camp."

Arthur nodded his appreciation once again. When Dutch turned to him, he was already mounting a horse left by the dead bounty hunters. Dutch placed a hand on the beast and took the reins to keep Arthur from hurrying off. 

"Are you alright? I mean truly," He took Arthur's hand in his, squeezing softly. He saw Arthur look off into the distance.

"I'll be fine."

Dutch held his breath for a moment. He knew Arthur needed to talk about it. Hosea's words from years echoing in his memory, _Don't let him shut down. Give him something personal about yourself. Let him know it's safe to open up._

"I felt...weak. I...I was powerless to protect you. All this...it's my fault and I am truly sorry," Dutch forced himself to maintain eye contact with Arthur so he felt the sincerity of his words. He saw Arthur's face soften and felt relief wash over him as the younger man opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't apologize. There was nothin' you could do. To be honest...I'm more unsettled by the fact those damned bounty hunters got us. I don't know. Just...seein' you tied up like that made this situation we're in all the more real. We never been that close to bein' taken in or...or..."

The words caught in his throat and his eyes burned. Arthur didn't know how to voice the fear and uncertainty that had taken root inside him and was thankful when Dutch reached out and squeezed his shoulder in understanding, allowing him a reprieve from his stammering thoughts. 

"What do you say we set up a spot together just outside of camp. I'd like to be by you tonight….if that's alright." 

"You don't have to do that," Arthur's eyes trailed after Dutch as he mounted one of the horses. The man was giving him the exact thing he had been angry over the deprivation of earlier in the day and here he was shrugging it off, unable to accept what he craved; affection.

"I know I don't have to, son. I want to...," He needed to. Needed to know the other man was safe and sound; wanted to at least be able to pretend he could keep him safe, tucked in close to his chest.

Arthur nodded and they set into motion. He tried his best to purge the earlier events from his head, hopeful Dutch wouldn't want to discuss it further. However, the burning from the unwanted intrusion earlier made it all the more difficult to forget. 

He was thankful for the silence as they rode toward camp. When they were within a mile, they setup a tent and Dutch dressed down. He watched the man lay out their bedrolls side by side. Dutch averted his eyes to give the man privacy as he came to bed. Arthur climbed under the thin blanket and removed the duster. He settled in beside Dutch. This had been what he wanted but it felt awkward. He was still embarrassed and shaken by what had happened. Dutch turned to him, putting his arm around his waist and moving closer to hold him.

"Is this alright?"

Arthur nodded. It felt like before. He tried to forget all the hurt he felt over the last year, tried to push out the thought of Dutch slipping away from him - from himself - but there was one thing still nagging at the back of his mind.

"Dutch...The Blackwater money...I don't expect you to barter somethin' like that for me."

"As long as I am in my right mind, nothing is more important to me than you. You come first. Before money. Before myself. Before _anything_."

Arthur felt his chest tighten, warmth spreading through him mixed with something insidious and foreboding. He couldn't help but feel Dutch's words, as true as they may be at present, foreshadowed a dark irony about their future.


End file.
